by Mae Wood
“Probably,” I whispered, my heart filling and aching from so much love mixed with fear of verbalizing the truth.
“Good. Glad we’re on the same page,” he said, releasing me. As I stepped under the streaming water to rinse my hair, he smacked my ass. “It will make negotiations go much more smoothly.”
After a little slippery play, Trip fixed his oatmeal breakfast. “Do you have any decaf?” I called from the walk-in pantry. “I’m trying to cut back on caffeine on the weekends, so I get a good kick on Monday mornings.”
“Not sure. If you can’t find any, I’ll ask for some.”
I stepped out of the pantry empty handed. “No, if you don’t have any, I’ll get some at Kroger.”
“You don’t have to do that. Ophelia can pick some up.”
“Did you just forget what happened yesterday?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. So, what do you want to do about that? Let’s be honest. It’s not like I’m going to start grocery shopping. I’m mean you’re cute, but I’ve already gone to the grocery store once for you. That’s probably enough for a lifetime.”
I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or being serious about the horror he had experienced by going to Whole Foods. “Did you have a traumatic childhood experience at the grocery store or something? You do realize that most adults go to the grocery store.”
“No, no traumatic childhood experience. I just don’t like it. If grocery delivery were a thing in Memphis, I’d do that. Instead, my mom just handles it. It works for me.”
“Well, it’s not my house, so how about this: She’ll call before she stops by, right?”
Trip nodded.
“And I haven’t met Ophelia yet and don’t want to have a similar ‘Hi, I’m Marisa’ experience with her. Again, it’s not my house, but can you ask her to check first?”
“Fair enough. Does this mean that I might come home to my own centerfold one day?”
“And if I want decaf coffee, I’ll bring my own,” ignoring his comment even as my cheeks burned.
“That’s just silly, but it’s your life.”
“Trip, I’m not looking to you or your mom or your mom’s housekeeper to take care of me.”
“It’s fucking coffee. I’m not arguing with you about coffee. Christ.” Trip scrubbed a hand through his sandy hair and across his face. He set down his empty oatmeal bowl on the counter and opened his arms. “Come here.”
I walked toward him feeling like crap.
He just got home and we’re in a fight? A fight about who buys the coffee? I am the bad guy here.
As soon as his arms wrapped around me, I rested my head on his chest and my thoughts shifted.
Don’t fuck this up, Marisa. Don’t. It doesn’t matter who buys the coffee. Get over yourself. This is what matters.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I’m really sorry.”
“No. But let’s not fight about coffee. I know this isn’t about coffee. Let’s just go one step at a time, right?”
“Can’t we just forget about the past twenty-four hours?”
“No. In fact you spread like a centerfold is all I’ve been thinking about.”
I pushed back from him, but didn’t leave his arms. “Are you serious? You’ve been back for less than a day and we’ve been at it like rabbits ever since we got home last night.”
“Not complaining. Though the phone has been nice, it’s not you.”
“I know,” I sighed back into him.
But I really want this to be more than sex. It’s more than sex for me.
“Okay, so we survived last night.”
“Arguably,” I laughed. “But yes, we survived.”
“Tonight is round two with your parents. What do you want to do about that? Dinner here okay?”
“Hold that thought.” I reached for my beeping phone and read the text: Josh is staying in town. Dinner’s back on at our house.
“Can you go three rounds?”
“Pretty sure you already know that.”
I rolled my eyes and smiled. He never stops. “We’ve been invited to Sunday dinner at Josh and Erica’s. So, yes or no?”
“Of course yes, if you think we should go, we’ll go.”
“We should go.”
“Done. Okay, so dinner tonight? What about grilling steaks?”
“Sounds good. Will you go to the grocery with me?”
“It’s not like I have an allergy. It’s just not how I like to spend my time, but I can go.”
“Okay. Great. Here’s the other thing about my parents coming over here. I’m going to have to leave.”
His head cocked and his blue eyes stared at me in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I just can’t stay here after dinner. That’s just going to be awkward. I don’t want them knowing that I’m here here.”
He shook his head. “What about Shithead? It was okay they knew you lived with Shithead, but not okay that you’re spending time with me?”
“That was never talked about.”
“You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack, which is what would happen if either of my parents thought I was ‘living in sin,’ ” I answered, employing air quotes.
“So how did that work?”
“We just avoided the conversation. And he officially rented a room in a friend’s apartment.”
“Wow. That’s some serious deception. So they think you’re like some thirty year old virgin?”
“Again, not something we’ve ever talked about or will ever talk about.”
“Okay, whatever. Can I give you your present now?”
“You got me a present?”
“Well, it’s for our mutual enjoyment.”
“Trip, you really can’t say things like that in front of other people.”
“I like where your mind is, Miss Tanner, but that isn’t what I’m talking about. Come on.” He grabbed my hand and led me through the living room to a closed door on the far side of the house.
Oh, dear God, he really is into BDSM and this is his dungeon. Holy fuck.
He turned the handle and pushed the door open.
Oh, an exercise room.
“You like it?”
“Sure,” I replied, surveying the rack of weights, a bike on some sort of stand, a TV suspended from the ceiling, a treadmill, and some yoga mats on the floor in the otherwise bare room. “Nice home gym.”
“No, your present. The treadmill.”
“You got me a treadmill?”
“Yes. Winter is coming and since you run and I bike, I thought we could exercise together in the mornings.”
Wow. That’s forward thinking. He wants me here in the winter?
“Winter’s a long way off, Trip.”
He shook his head and smiled. “Don’t fight me on this. I’m going to the dreaded grocery store for you.”
I laughed and kissed him. “You are lovely.”
“So are you. Okay, so early dinner here, then you can drive around the block or do whatever it is to keep up your virginal charade with your parents. I’ll be here.”
We played happy couple at the grocery store. Trip once again morphed into his playful state and made a beeline toward each of the tasting displays, bringing me back samples to try.
“Wow, hunting and gathering for me. You are quite the catch, caveman,” I teased, taking a proffered cube of cheese.
“Me go to Switzerland. Me get woman cheese. Groo-yeer.”
I rolled my eyes and popped the gruyere into my mouth. “Good caveman. So, steaks? Fish? What do you want to grill?”
“Is it wrong to say since I’m cooking for your dad, I’m going to feel like less of a man if I don’t serve him a hunk of cow?”
“Don’t have some venison in a deep freezer from a buck that you took bow hunting?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, pretty sure that’s what my dad would serve you, if he wanted to impress you.”
“Yeah, so, I don’t hunt.”
“Didn’t think so. I’m quite happy with a caveman who knows European cheeses.” I leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“Good. So, how about some locally-raised grass-fed filet mignon?”
“Applewood bacon-wrapped?”
“I’m never letting you go,” he pulled me away from the grocery cart and into his arms.
“Get a room,” a male voice called. Our heads swiveled to find Josh manically grinning at us. “Hey, man,” he stuck out his hand and he and Trip shook. “You guys going to be able to not do that in front of the kids tomorrow night?”
“No promises. I might make it through dinner, but I’m definitely having her for dessert”
Holy shit. Did he just say that? To Josh? In the middle of Whole Foods?
“Man,” said Josh with a whistle. “Marisa Tanner quiet. You don’t appreciate how rare this is. I’m leaving before she slaps you and then tells Erica it was my fault and I have more apologizing to do.”
“Is this some weird male-bonding? Because I’m totally going to call Erica and then you’ll really have some apologizing to do.”
Josh raised his hands in surrender and backed away slowly, rubbing his jaw. “Fine, I’ve already been apologizing so much my jaw is sore. See you tomorrow night.”
Seriously. “Seriously?” I turned to Trip. “You guys share one meal a couple of months ago and now feel like you can share that much?”
“We’ve kept in touch since then. We know a few of the same people.”
“Like here in Memphis? Josh doesn’t really leave the house.”
“No, I went to college with some of his high school friends. Small world.”
“So that really is how the world works. Six degrees of men born with silver spoons in their mouths? A cabal of male Columbia and Brown graduates controlling the world?”
“Throw in some Stanford guys, and yes. But don’t tell the Harvard and Yale guys. Hurts their egos. Now, let’s get you barefoot and in my kitchen.”
Dear God, please help me. I don’t know whether to smack him or laugh.
***
When my parents arrived, I was putting the twice-baked potatoes we’d bought in the oven and Trip was in the back garden, starting the grill. The doorbell echoed through the house.
Breathe. Breathe. Should I get the door? It’s his house. It’s not mine. Oh, this is stupid. I’m not leaving my parents on the front steps.
I walked to the front door and greeted them.
“Hey, sweetie,” said my mom. “I brought dessert. I hope he likes banana pudding.”
“I’m sure he will. Come in, come in.”
“Hostessing, already?”
I paused at the implication that I’d claimed Trip’s house as my own. “No, Trip’s just out in the back with the grill.”
“Sounds like that’s where I should go, too,” said my dad. “You good?” he whispered, pulling me into a hug.
“Very.”
“Is he being nice?”
“Very.”
“Good. That’s all I need to know. Now show me to the grill.”
I led my parents through the house to the kitchen where Mom placed the Tupperware in the fridge and Dad spied Trip by the grill. “Okay, I’m off to be a man.” Dad took his leave and I internally cringed, knowing Mom was about to ask me a million questions none of which I probably had answers to.
“So, this is a really nice house. Fancy.”
“Yes, it is.”
“And so close to your condo.”
I nodded. She’s fishing.
“Yes, that is nice.”
“Do you spend a lot of time here? Last time we had a good chat, you were here.”
“Mom,” I groaned. “Trip travels a ton for work. We really only see each other on the weekends. So, yes and no, I guess. Please don’t go planning a wedding in your mind.”
“Who is planning a wedding, sweetie?” she asked with a kind wink. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“Mom, please. Please just leave it. Yes, I’m happy. Yes, we’re dating. No, we’re not seeing other people.” At least I’m not and I’m pretty sure he isn’t either. Should we have that conversation? “No, I don’t know where this is going.”
“I’m not asking you to know that. But I know that.”
“Fine.”
“Gone shopping with his mom again?”
“You are really jealous about that, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’m not too big to admit it. So, have you?”
“No, but when I saw her last night she—”
“You saw his mom last night?”
“We went to the ballet with his parents and then dinner.”
“Okay,” she breathed out slowly. “You pretend all you want Marisa Louise Tanner. I’m not buying it a bit. No man takes a woman he’s casually dating to the ballet with his mother. So, this is it, isn’t it?”
“Hope so,” I said quietly, avoiding her gaze and peering at the twice-baked potatoes browning in the oven.
“Will you promise me one thing? Please don’t elope. No Vegas. No Reno.”
“Who’s going to Nevada?” called Trip, stepping into the kitchen. “Nancy, y’all got a trip coming up?”
“Oh, no. Just talking. Trip, how are you?” My mom gave him a big hug.
Please dial it down, Mom. Please don’t freak out on him. Be cool. Be cool, Mom.
“I’m great. Thanks for coming to dinner.”
“Thank you for inviting us. I hope you like banana pudding. I brought some for dessert.”
“And Nancy’s banana pudding is not to be missed,” interjected my dad, stepping into the kitchen behind Trip. “She makes it from scratch. Even the cookies.”
“Impressive. So, steaks, twice-baked potatoes, lima beans, and banana pudding. I’m thinking a red blend? Nancy?”
“Sounds lovely,” she replied. I eyed my dad. He nodded, trying to give me assurance across the room.
Mom is such a lightweight. Two glasses and she’s going to start talking about how cute our children are going to be. Dad, please stay on this.
Trip pulled down a bottle of wine and with that, dinner was in full swing.
That last glass of wine was not a good idea. Trip pushed back to collect our dessert plates from the dining table and urged me to continue to sit. Mom popped up to help him. No bombs. No interrogations. No inappropriate questions. Just lots of football. Lots and lots of football. My neck was sore from nodding and my eyes had glazed over.
“So, sweetie, you happy?”
“Glad to have someone to talk SEC football with, Daddy?”
“I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
“Nope. You didn’t sound like a sports talk radio junkie at all.”
“Sorry, but it is nice to have someone to talk with. Do you think he wants to come hunting with me?”
“He doesn’t hunt.”
“Okay, but I’m going to ask.”
“No, you are not. You and Mom need to give us some space.”
“Okay. You’ve got space. Now give me some grandbabies.”
What. The. Hell.
“I’m going to pretend that you never said that. Like ever.”
“Nancy,” he called from the table. “I think it’s time we went home. Leave these kids alone.”
“I should get on, too. I need to get some work done before tomorrow,” I offered.
“Trip, keep the rest of the banana pudding. Marisa will bring the Tupperware back to me.”
“A word of caution. Man to man. Do not lose Nancy’s Tupperware,” my dad said with a good-bye handshake. I nodded in whole-hearted agreement.
“Correct. Do not lose it or we’ll have to break up. Sorry.” I gave him a brief hug around his neck. “See you later. Thanks for having us over.”
“Marisa, can I talk with you a second?”
“Sure, Mom.” I stepped to the side with her.
“We know what you’re doing and it’s silly. Just stay. You’re a grown up. You’re both adul
ts. Things that would have upset us when you were seventeen or even twenty-five don’t worry us anymore. Just be careful. Got it? Have a good night. I love you.”
She gave me a hug. And with that my parents walked to their car and left me on Trip’s front steps.
“Okay, this is when you’re going to get into your car and drive around the neighborhood for a few minutes,” Trip teased.
“Nope,” I shrugged. “Looks like I’ve somehow graduated to being an adult.”
“Wanna go to a movie? If we leave now, we can catch a nine o’clock show at the Malco.”
“Sure,” I replied, surprised he didn’t want to fall into bed. “Like a real date?”
“Yes, like a real date.” He kissed my temple and grabbed my hand.
We held hands through the movie. Like teenagers but without the groping and fondling. It was some critically acclaimed drama, but it didn’t matter. I was happy to be doing something “normal” with my boyfriend. Being near him, resting my head on his shoulder, I felt at peace. When the movie ended, we filed out quietly, our fingers still intertwined.
“Home?” he asked.
I nodded. Yes, home.
We drove towards downtown in a comfortable silence. His right hand on my left thigh, drawing lazy circles with his fingers. “So, I don’t want to be too greedy with you here, so I’ll drop you by your place if you want, but I’d really like you to come home with me.”
I smiled and softly snorted. “Funny. When you asked about going home, I didn’t even think you meant taking me to my place.”
He gave my thigh a squeeze. “Good.”
We got home and instead of chasing each other upstairs, we lazily walked into the house. Trip’s arm found his way around my waist. I tossed my purse on the island and he dropped his keys next to it.
This feels different. This is different. Good different, but different.
In the master bedroom, I walked to the bathroom and Trip made his way to the closet. I stripped down to nothing and threw on one of his old t-shirts, brushed my teeth and washed my face.
“Hey beautiful.”
I placed the washcloth on the rack and looked at him in the mirror. My mellow man, worn and tired in his boxers. “It’s been a long few days.”
“It’s been a long couple of weeks. I’m beat.”
“You were a trooper tonight with my parents. Ready for bed?”
A smile curled on his lips. “Nothing compares to your yesterday.”